Nordic Hate
by LadyKirklandJones
Summary: By LadyKirkland - A hunting trip turns out to meet a bloody end, and not in the way Sweden, Finland and Norway would have hoped. (Rated M for gore and character death. Note: I don't hate any of the characters included, I was just in a morbid mood and needed to write something morbid. Plus I wanted to scare LadyJones by adding this to one of her stories in Doc. Manager. It worked)


**_ABLABLABLABLABLABLAM!_**

Denmark grinned as he shot Iceland in the head repeatedly, drawing rivers and rivers of blood from the younger Nordic. He relished in hearing the younger's screams of agony and whimpering in pain seeing as he couldn't die from being so hurt. Denmark laughed lowly, taking a knife from his pocket and approaching the injured nation, stabbing him thirty-nine times in the chest, each stab slow and painful so that it would draw gut-wrenching screams from the pale Icelandic man. Around both their feet pooled crimson blood from Iceland's body and began to soak their boots. The taller spiked-haired man laughed again as he stabbed Emil in his head, the thick blade piercing the fragile bone of Iceland's cranium, drawing yet more screams of agony and fear from him as the knife pierced his brain. Surprisingly to Denmark the smaller man kept on screaming, his brain being pierced barely fazing him. And it only drove Denmark onwards to kill his fellow Nordic. Iceland kept on screaming and screaming until Denmark booted him in the chest, making him double up and go limp with his head still impaled on the knife.

The Dane laughed lowly as he kicked Iceland repeatedly all over his body, leaving big black and blue bruises everywhere on the smaller nation's body. Each time he convulsed violently, spitting blood from his mouth as blood streamed from the gunholes in his face. One was in his left eye, one in his right cheek, one destroyed his nose and one through his forehead. No doubt about it, Emil Steilsson was a dead man walking. Or rather, spasming on the bloodied floor of the Nordic kitchen. Sweden, Finland and Norway were out on a walk while Denmark murdered his rival in the world. His supposed brother. This'll get Norge to react. Finally. The murder and death of his little brother would finally get Norge to react to _something_.

Soon Denmark stopped kicking his younger brother finally, watching with no remorse, no regret in his eyes, only an insane grin plastered to his face as tears of blood stroked his cheeks. He watched his nearly dead brother convulse weakly on the marble floor, his gasps for breath rattling through the still air with contempt and hurt in them. But nothing seemed to affect Denmark. The tall Dane raised his battle-axe and, sparing Iceland one last look of insanity, brought it down harshly; its whoosh of the blade cutting through the air as it then sliced through Iceland's head, cutting the bleeding head right in half.

"A clean-cut." Denmark said to himself, grinning as he scooped up handfuls of the slick, glistening blood and licked his fingers that were drenched in it. The door slammed open and in trudged the other three Nordics: Sweden, Norway and Finland.

"M'g'nna g't a dr'nk..." Sweden said as he stalked into the kitchen. Soon he stopped in the doorway and his glasses magnified the horror on his face. Slowly and to everyone's surprise, the usually stoic nation let out a scream of panic and fright. It filled the air and made everyone's blood run cold. Soon the other two Nordics were in the doorway and staring at the sight before them.

"Do you like what I've done with the place Norge, Sve, Finny?" Denmark said insanely, kneeling over his masterpiece as he looked up and grinned more. Finland's eyes were wide in shock and horror as he held onto Sweden's arm, making the taller Nordic fall quiet. Norway went pale, his eyes full of fear and his face contorted into an expression of disgust and fear.

"L... Little brother...?" Norway said shakily, his face full of horrified emotions as he stepped closer. His ears were met with a soft splash as he put his foot into a puddle of blood, Iceland's blood, and a spine-chilling _squelch_ as one of the Icelandic's intestines exploded in a pile of goo beneath the Norwegian's foot. Denmark laughed a low, menacing laugh that was both insane and sinister at the same time; there was no response from Iceland to either sounds.

"I... Ice..?" Norway said again, stepping closer and trying hard to ignore the blood that was soaking his boots, "E... Emil...?" There was a low, rasping noise from the dead nation as his chest rose and fell ever so slowly. Norway knelt beside his fallen brother and held onto him, tears streaming down his face as his hands and clothes were slowly stained with blood. Iceland slowly turned his head, his breathing rattling through the air, and gave a weak smile to Norway. The elder brother's heart clenched at seeing his little brother in such a state.

"B... B... Big... b... brother..." was all that could be heard leaving Iceland's lips before he passed, his eyes fading to a dulled grey and his heart finally stopping its rhythm. Norway was shaking and almost sick at what had just happened. It was terrible that under these particular circumstances had Iceland given in, and finally called Norway his big brother.

"I've called the police." Finland said to Sweden as he led him out of the room to allow him to calm down. In all his years as a Nordic and having his share of a violent and bloody past, nothing like this had ever happened to him. Denmark had never gone as far as to murder one of his kin, whether he was upset, angry or drunk or not. It had scarred the stoic nation for life, no doubt about that.

The sirens wailed in the distance and Sweden looked up to see the police arrive outside the once-humble Nordic house. Slowly, he answered the door and allowed the officers in. Denmark remained where he was, grinning and laughing like the maniac he had become in such a short space of time between his fellow Nordics going out on a hunt, and murdering Iceland. He grinned and greeted the officers with a nod.

"Officers. Do you like my art?" he laughed darkly as he was forced into a straitjacket and led away from the house, bundled into the back of a van and taken to an asylum where he would be kept there until further questioning. The Norwegian undertakers soon arrived alongside the police to take Iceland away to examine his mutilated carcass. No more, would any of the remaining Nordics would partake in bloodshed and killings, whether it was a part of who they were or not. No more, would they insult each other. No more, would there be any quarrels. No more, would they hate each other.


End file.
